I Hope
by shiny silver grl
Summary: After Harry defeats Voldemort, the Dark Lord's remaining forces attack Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione must step up and be heroes, and Ron must admit to the feelings he's been hiding from Hermione for years. COMPLETE.
1. Title

****

Title: "I Hope"

****

Author: silver

****

Written: May 11th, 2004 – May 12th, 2004h

****

Takes Place: Near the end of 7th year at Hogwarts.

****

Rating: PG

****

Summary: One shot…sort of a scene out of an ongoing story type deal. During one of the final, epic battles of the war, Harry has just defeated Voldemort, and has not yet returned to Hogwarts. The very night they learn of his victory, the school comes under attack by the last of the Dark Lord's forces. Ron and Hermione must step up to the plate and be heroes, and Ron must finally admit to the feelings he's been hiding from her for years.

****

Disclaimer: JKR owns it all…I don't.

****

Author's Note: Well, it looks like I wasn't able to quench my thirst to write PotterFic with just that one story ("Not As The Last Resort"), so here I am again. Once again I am trying very hard to keep from committing myself to a big, detailed fic, and am concentrating instead on one or two events in the middle of an ongoing story. And once again, I'm obsessing over Ron and Hermione. Someone stop me!


	2. Attack

__

Get to Hermione. Get to Hermione. Find her, keep her safe.

Amid the bedlam around him, she was all Ron could think of. He avoided falling debris, dodged students as they ran past him, and single-mindedly kept running toward Gryffindor Tower.

__

She'll be all right, he assured himself, fighting down the panic. _The tower hasn't been hit yet._

There was a loud **BOOM!** from outside the castle walls, but Ron barely registered the sound. All he could think of was finding Hermione and getting her out of here somehow, before Voldemort's Death Eaters got inside.

That's who it had to be, of course. Voldemort himself had been defeated that very day by Harry Potter, the boy who lived…again. What was left of his dark army must be very confident of their success, or else very desperate to try such a thing right now, when such a devastating blow had been struck to their forces.

This was madness. Ron couldn't believe they were attacking the **school**. What did they think they would accomplish, here? He could understand them targeting Headmaster Dumbledore – as the leader of the Order of the Phoenix, he was their greatest foe – but it seemed most unwise to try to get at him by hammering their way into the most carefully protected structure in the hemisphere. Hogwarts was guarded by the most powerful charms that the most powerful wizard in the world could conjure. The castle itself was an ancient, sprawling, impenetrable fortress.

__

I hope, Ron thought. _I hope it's impenetrable. Because if they get in here…_

It would be a slaughter, he knew. When he, Harry, Hermione and the others had gone up against a pack of Death Eaters at the Ministry of Magic in their fifth year, they'd barely escaped with their lives. And they'd been years older then, than half the complement of the school, now. There was no way the younger students would be able to defend themselves.

Ron skidded to a halt, falling backward just as part of the ceiling gave way and crashed down before him in a flaming pile of rocks. Not even waiting until the last brick had settled, he jumped up and ran around the debris, never wavering in his destination.

What he was really afraid of wasn't mass slaughter of the children, however. He didn't think that was the intention of the Death Eaters outside. They would have absolutely nothing to gain from it. Some of the students attending this school were offspring of the Death Eaters, for crying out loud! An image of Draco Malfoy's father intruded into Ron's thoughts, and he angrily shoved it away. He knew all too well who Lucius Malfoy would target. His disdain for Muggles and Muggle-borns had never been a secret, and Ron knew who the first person he went after would be, if he managed to gain entry to the school.

And that was why Ron was running. It was why he raced to get to Hermione as quickly as he could. Because Lucius Malfoy would kill her, if he got the chance. And Ron would kill to stop him.


	3. Responsibility

Outside, it was even worse than it had been a few minutes before when Ron escaped into the Common Room. Several sections of the roofing had fallen in, exposing dark sky and shining stars above the castle. Whatever the Death Eaters were doing to the school, it was causing great explosions, and fire was spreading from the wreckage to the grand old carpets. The flames licked up the walls to catch paintings as well, and Ron caught Hermione's horrified glance. They shared a stricken look, but there was no way they could save the paintings if they were to get their charges safely down to the Dining Hall. It was a heartbreaking decision – the subjects of these paintings had been hanging in the halls of Hogwarts for far longer than the past seven years, and some of them were like family – but there was no real choice. They pressed on, Ron and Hermione leading the other students past the flickering destruction. Behind them, the Fat Lady shrieked and ran out of her painting.

They reached the stairs, which were shifting around ceaselessly, agitated. Hermione spied one upper-level staircase that was moving across the great space toward them, and called to Ron. He saw it, and quickly ran to the end of the hall. A heavy, dusky red drapery hung around the window there; it was tied back with a thick, golden cord. Ron unknotted it and yanked it down, running back to the landing. "You there," he called to a tall boy in his line. "Help me catch this staircase."

The boy blinked, but moved forward. When the staircase came to rest briefly at the landing, he and Ron grabbed hold of the wooden rails and held it as Hermione darted forward and slipped the drapery cord through the slats of the banister. She quickly wrapped both ends around the railing of the landing and pulled back, creating tension on the line. When the staircase tried to move away from the landing, the drapery cord held it tethered.

Hermione continued to hold the line until Ron knotted the ends together, and then she let go. "All right, everyone," she called. "Down the stairs. Remember, stick together!"

In groups of twos and threes, the students made their way down the staircase. Luckily, it was a long one, and went nearly to the floor so they only had to "catch" one more staircase. Since they'd left the cord as a tether for the first staircase, Ron and Seamus held on to this one by strength alone until all of the students had reached the bottom. Then they let go and quickly joined the others on the ground floor.

Just then there was another **BOOM!**, this one even louder than the first. There were screams from the entrance hall, and people began fleeing into the stairwell.

Obviously, the other prefects hadn't managed wrangle as much control over their charges as Hermione, because Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were running everywhere, unchecked and screaming their heads off. A moment later, however, Ron was forced to revise his definition of "screaming their heads off" when Nearly Headless Nick zoomed by, floating several feet in the air. Sir Nicholas' head was tipped all the way back, exposing the incomplete cut that had made him famous (and dead). His mouth – which was currently aimed in the opposite direction from the front of his body – was open and emitting a girlish scream as he floated past, at speed.

Ron shook his head, as if to clear it of the image, and he focused on his own group, looking for Hermione. There she was, at the front, directing the Gryffindors through the door into the Dining Hall. As he watched her, she grabbed what looked to be a First or Second Year Hufflepuff that was running by, and pushed him through the door, too.

Despite the situation, Ron grinned. This was what Hermione did best…boss people around. She was probably having a grand time of it.

Bringing up the rear, Ron kept the Gryffindors ahead of him moving toward the door to the Dining Hall. He was nearly there when there was another surge from the entrance…only this time it wasn't people.

Ron's blood ran cold. _Dementors!_

It appeared as if the Death Eaters had finally breached the school, and Dementors were to be their first wave of attack. The tall, skeletal figures, hooded in black, glided across the floor toward the small group of Gryffindors remaining. Ron pushed and shoved at the students in front of him, trying to get them to move faster to safety. Hermione was doing the same, standing at the door, moving them along.

The Dementor in the lead was getting closer, closer…it was upon them. Ron pulled out his wand and aimed it at the wraith, thinking of playing Quidditch, thinking of his family, thinking of his friends. Thinking of Hermione's smile. "Expecto Patronum!" he shouted, and a wispy fog came from the end of his wand. As it swirled there before him, it began to solidify and take shape. White wings spread out from the central form, individual feathers only sketches against the mist. A head elongated, a beak forming at one end as the hunting hawk took flight and launched itself against the Dementor. It shrieked a challenge at the figure in black, and reached out with taloned claws to tear into the creature.

Ron tore his eyes from the spectacle. There was no time to watch. He scanned the hall, seeing no more Gryffindors. He grabbed a fistful of the robes the Ravenclaw girl in front of him wore and propelled her through the door into the Dining Hall.

On the other side, they were already shutting the door. He barely made it clear with the girl he'd grabbed, when the door was slammed shut and bolted. Through the heavy oak, Ron could only scarcely hear the hunting cry of his Patronus as it battled with the Dementor.

Out of immediate danger, Ron glanced around. There were quite a few students in the Dining Hall, including all of the Gryffindors, and all of the Slytherins. To Ron's considerable surprise, he saw Draco Malfoy directing his housemates to levitate the long dining tables over against the doors to provide another barrier should the Hall be breached. He'd thought for sure that Draco would be outside, fighting with his father against the Order. Against Hogwarts. He gaped at the strange sight for several seconds before Ginny elbowed her way up to him.

"Ron, Ron!" she called, finally getting through. "Did Hermione come in with you?"

"What?" Ron asked, only confused at first. "No, she was up at the front, with you girls." He craned his neck, looking around at the tops of the heads of the people around him, searching for Hermione's wavy, chestnut hair. He didn't see any, and alarm gripped him. "Where is she?"

Ron heard his name again, from his right this time. He turned, and saw that Neville was the owner of the voice who had called to him. "She didn't come in!" he shouted. "She was trying to round up more students!"

Ron paled as the blood drained from his face. She was still out there? Hermione was out there with the Dementors, alone?

Oh God…he'd lost her.


	4. Journey

Outside, it was even worse than it had been a few minutes before when Ron escaped into the Common Room. Several sections of the roofing had fallen in, exposing dark sky and shining stars above the castle. Whatever the Death Eaters were doing to the school, it was causing great explosions, and fire was spreading from the wreckage to the grand old carpets. The flames licked up the walls to catch paintings as well, and Ron caught Hermione's horrified glance. They shared a stricken look, but there was no way they could save the paintings if they were to get their charges safely down to the Dining Hall. It was a heartbreaking decision – the subjects of these paintings had been hanging in the halls of Hogwarts for far longer than the past seven years, and some of them were like family – but there was no real choice. They pressed on, Ron and Hermione leading the other students past the flickering destruction. Behind them, the Fat Lady shrieked and ran out of her painting.

They reached the stairs, which were shifting around ceaselessly, agitated. Hermione spied one upper-level staircase that was moving across the great space toward them, and called to Ron. He saw it, and quickly ran to the end of the hall. A heavy, dusky red drapery hung around the window there; it was tied back with a thick, golden cord. Ron unknotted it and yanked it down, running back to the landing. "You there," he called to a tall boy in his line. "Help me catch this staircase."

The boy blinked, but moved forward. When the staircase came to rest briefly at the landing, he and Ron grabbed hold of the wooden rails and held it as Hermione darted forward and slipped the drapery cord through the slats of the banister. She quickly wrapped both ends around the railing of the landing and pulled back, creating tension on the line. When the staircase tried to move away from the landing, the drapery cord held it tethered.

Hermione continued to hold the line until Ron knotted the ends together, and then she let go. "All right, everyone," she called. "Down the stairs. Remember, stick together!"

In groups of twos and threes, the students made their way down the staircase. Luckily, it was a long one, and went nearly to the floor so they only had to "catch" one more staircase. Since they'd left the cord as a tether for the first staircase, Ron and Seamus held on to this one by strength alone until all of the students had reached the bottom. Then they let go and quickly joined the others on the ground floor.

Just then there was another **BOOM!**, this one even louder than the first. There were screams from the entrance hall, and people began fleeing into the stairwell.

Obviously, the other prefects hadn't managed wrangle as much control over their charges as Hermione, because Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were running everywhere, unchecked and screaming their heads off. A moment later, however, Ron was forced to revise his definition of "screaming their heads off" when Nearly Headless Nick zoomed by, floating several feet in the air. Sir Nicholas' head was tipped all the way back, exposing the incomplete cut that had made him famous (and dead). His mouth – which was currently aimed in the opposite direction from the front of his body – was open and emitting a girlish scream as he floated past, at speed.

Ron shook his head, as if to clear it of the image, and he focused on his own group, looking for Hermione. There she was, at the front, directing the Gryffindors through the door into the Dining Hall. As he watched her, she grabbed what looked to be a First or Second Year Hufflepuff that was running by, and pushed him through the door, too.

Despite the situation, Ron grinned. This was what Hermione did best…boss people around. She was probably having a grand time of it.

Bringing up the rear, Ron kept the Gryffindors ahead of him moving toward the door to the Dining Hall. He was nearly there when there was another surge from the entrance…only this time it wasn't people.

Ron's blood ran cold. _Dementors!_

It appeared as if the Death Eaters had finally breached the school, and Dementors were to be their first wave of attack. The tall, skeletal figures, hooded in black, glided across the floor toward the small group of Gryffindors remaining. Ron pushed and shoved at the students in front of him, trying to get them to move faster to safety. Hermione was doing the same, standing at the door, moving them along.

The Dementor in the lead was getting closer, closer…it was upon them. Ron pulled out his wand and aimed it at the wraith, thinking of playing Quidditch, thinking of his family, thinking of his friends. Thinking of Hermione's smile. "Expartum Patronus!" he shouted, and a wispy fog came from the end of his wand. As it swirled there before him, it began to solidify and take shape. White wings spread out from the central form, individual feathers only sketches against the mist. A head elongated, a beak forming at one end as the hunting hawk took flight and launched itself against the Dementor. It shrieked a challenge at the figure in black, and reached out with taloned claws to tear into the creature.

Ron tore his eyes from the spectacle. There was no time to watch. He scanned the hall, seeing no more Gryffindors. He grabbed a fistful of the robes the Ravenclaw girl in front of him wore and propelled her through the door into the Dining Hall.

On the other side, they were already shutting the door. He barely made it clear with the girl he'd grabbed, when the door was slammed shut and bolted. Through the heavy oak, Ron could only scarcely hear the hunting cry of his Patronus as it battled with the Dementor.

Out of immediate danger, Ron glanced around. There were quite a few students in the Dining Hall, including all of the Gryffindors, and all of the Slytherins. To Ron's considerable surprise, he saw Draco Malfoy directing his housemates to levitate the long dining tables over against the doors to provide another barrier should the Hall be breached. He'd thought for sure that Draco would be outside, fighting with his father against the Order. Against Hogwarts. He gaped at the strange sight for several seconds before Ginny elbowed her way up to him.

"Ron, Ron!" she called, finally getting through. "Did Hermione come in with you?"

"What?" Ron asked, only confused at first. "No, she was up at the front, with you girls." He craned his neck, looking around at the tops of the heads of the people around him, searching for Hermione's wavy, chestnut hair. He didn't see any, and alarm gripped him. "Where is she?"

Ron heard his name again, from his right this time. He turned, and saw that Neville was the owner of the voice who had called to him. "She didn't come in!" he shouted. "She was trying to round up more students!"

Ron paled as the blood drained from his face. She was still out there? Hermione was out there with the Dementors, alone?

Oh God…he'd lost her.


	5. Helpless

Without a second thought, Ron ran back to the door, throwing the first bolt. He'd grabbed hold of the next one when a hand yanked at the back of his robes and pulled him away from the door. "What do you think you're doing, Weasley?" Professor Snape asked.

__

Why?! Ron quailed. _Of all of the teachers who could have been left to watch the students, why did it have to be Snape?_

"Hermione's still out there," Ron said desperately, moving toward the door again. "I've got to help her."

"I think not," Snape said, sounding just as calm and condescending as he had in Potions Class earlier today, as if none of this mattered to him. His mouth was set in a flat line. "We can't risk all of the students in the Hall for one who wasn't smart enough to get to safety."

"Wasn't smart enough?!" Ron cried, "She's the reason half of the students are here!"

"Then she wouldn't want their lives to be risked to save hers, would she?" Snape replied, sounding smug.

Ron knew his face was red with fury and frustration. Every moment that Snape kept him here could be Hermione's last. He turned on Snape. "Why didn't you warn us?" he accused the Professor, taking his anger out on him. "You were supposed to be on the inside…why didn't you warn us they were going to attack?!"

Snape's unflappable exterior slipped for just a moment; underneath the uncaring mask Ron saw consternation, guilt, and fear. Just enough to make him realize that Snape hadn't known. He hadn't been included in the plans for this attack, and that meant two things: Voldemort had known Snape was a spy for the Order, and Snape had failed in his mission.

This revelation did for Ron what no words could have…it drained him of his anger. A moment later Snape was in control of his expression again. His black eyes were cold as they stared at Ron. Before he could speak, denying him again, Ron tried a different tactic. "Please…Professor Snape. Just let me out. You can shut the door again behind me, but I've got to find Hermione. You **know** what they'll do to her if they catch her."

Ron threw every ounce of persuasion into his expression. His eyes begged Snape to see beyond his dislike, just this once. And to his amazement, it seemed to be working. Snape slowly nodded once, reluctantly, never breaking eye contact. Then he started to move to the door. Ron's heart leapt…and then plummeted again when he heard another voice behind him. A sympathetic voice, but he hated it all the same for its words.

"It's most unfortunate about Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said, "but I'm afraid Professor Snape is quite correct. We cannot risk the lives of other students for one girl, even if you volunteer Mr. Weasley."

She saw the hopelessness on his face, and something in her own softened. "I am not immune to your pain, Mr. Weasley. I'm quite fond of Hermione, myself, and I fear for her safety. But it is crucial that we remain here while Headmaster Dumbledore and the others fight off our attackers."

"But she's out there alone, Professor!" Ron cried, pained. "Please, you've got to let me go to her."

Professor McGonagall shook her head sorrowfully. "I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley. I cannot allow it."

Ron turned away, hating the helplessness that rose inside him. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to bear it.

Next to him, he heard Ginny. "Ron…if anyone can do it, Hermione can. You know she's smart enough to stay away from the Dementors."

He wanted to agree with his sister. He wanted to believe that Hermione would survive, and find her way back. But a cold dread had gripped his heart, and he was afraid that it was already too late.


	6. Desperate

Hours had gone by, and the battle was over.

Ron had passed the time pacing, helping with the defenses, trading insults with Malfoy…trying to do anything but think of Hermione out in the castle alone, unprotected.

And he was failing miserably. He couldn't get her out of his mind. Images crowded his thoughts. Images of Hermione hurt, Hermione in danger, Hermione dead. With each image he felt ill. He felt impotent. He felt lost. It was killing him, not being able to help her. Every moment longer, it was killing him.

And on top of the agony of not knowing if she was alive or not was his self recrimination having never told her how he felt. Even now, she could be lying somewhere dead, and he had never been brave enough to tell her he loved her. It had never been the right time; he had always been too unsure of her feelings. Now, he might never have the chance.

And so he had spent the past few hours with his stomach twisted in knots, feeling cold and afraid.

But now the sounds of battle had ceased on the other side of the Dining Hall's doors. Professor McGonagall was somehow in contact with Dumbledore, and had kept them appraised of the progress. Now, she declared, it was all over. The Dementors were dead, and the Death Eaters defeated. Several of the students spared Draco Malfoy a glance, but his expression was impassive, revealing nothing. It appeared that he had chosen his side.

As big as that was, Ron couldn't concentrate on it. When the Professors went to release the doors, Ron was first in line. The moment the doors were cracked open, he was shouldering his way through, looking around wildly.

The damage was extensive. Black, greasy soot from the fires marked the cinder blocks embedded in the massive walls of the castle. Rugs that had lain on the floors of the corridors of Hogwarts for centuries were nothing more now than ashes. Several paintings had been completely destroyed, but Ron was relieved to see that a number remained relatively unscathed. In them, quite a few displaced subjects were cautiously peering out, unsure if it was safe to come out or not.

Huge sections of the ceiling had given in, and the rubble was piled up in the entrance way, blocking the bottom-most staircase, which – like its fellows – was now stationary.

Ron wanted to storm the rubble, climbing up and over it, to find Hermione. But there was a bit of a difficulty there…he had no idea where she would be. He turned to Professor McGonagall, who had already thought ahead to this moment. She had pulled her wand from its sleeve in her robes, and held it lightly in her right hand. "Vox Voluminus," she chanted, and then held the tip of her wand up to her mouth.

"Attention, Hogwarts students. This is Professor McGonagall. Headmaster Dumbledore and the other professors have defeated Lord Voldemort's forces, and it is now safe to come out."

Ron was startled when he heard the Professor's voice coming from the Public Announcement boxes throughout the school. They were used so seldomly, he had completely forgotten they existed. Thinking back on it, he thought that the last time he'd heard an announcement from them had been back in year two, when Ginny had been kidnapped by Tom Riddle, a.k.a. Lord Voldemort's sixteen year old self.

He shook off the memory as Professor McGonagall finished. "Any students in hiding, please make your way down to the Dining Hall. Any injured students are to proceed directly to the Infirmary, where Madame Pomfrey will attend to you immediately."

At the conclusion of her announcement, everyone's attention – student and Professor alike - went to the top of the stairs. Ron watched just as raptly. He couldn't have torn his gaze away if he'd wanted to. He stared hard at the landing, as if everything hinged upon him not breaking his gaze, willing Hermione to appear there with every fiber of his being.

__

Please just let her be safe, he thought, over and over. _Please just let her be safe. Please…_

The minutes stretched out, and now some of the students were looking at each other worriedly and speaking in hushed tones. Ron could still hear them, despite their lowered voices.

"Why isn't anyone coming?"

"Could they **all** be dead?"

"Are we the only ones who made it?"

__

No, he thought. _Hermione's alive. She has to be. Come on…please, 'Mione._

Please.


	7. Reunion

Ron closed his eyes, grief-stricken.

It had been over five minutes, and not a single student – not one! – had come to the top of the stairs in response to Professor McGonagall's announcement. Ron felt Hermione's chances for survival slipping away with each moment that passed, until he could no longer look. He glanced at the professors, but he couldn't stand to see their expressions. McGonagall's eyes were moist. She also knew the unlikelihood of anyone else having survived, if not even one student had shown up by now.

So Ron closed his eyes against it all, as the pain reared up and ripped his throat out. She was gone. He'd lost her. Somewhere in the castle she lay slain; chocolate eyes that had looked upon him warmly were now cold, fixed open lifelessly, unseeing. He hadn't been able to save her. He'd failed her, on every level, and his misery was unbearable. It dragged his head down, threatened to swamp him as Ginny burst into tears next to him. He couldn't comfort her…he couldn't do anything but feel the pain of this loss more deeply than anything else in his life.

And so it was that he didn't see the first movement at the top of the stairs.

It wasn't until Neville Longbottom's excited, ecstatic "Look!" grabbed his attention that he opened his eyes and lifted his head. The murmurs of those around him grew to joyous shouts and cheering as dozens of students gathered on the landing at the top of the stairs. More and more, they just kept coming. Where had they all hidden?

Ron didn't care. He didn't care where they'd been, as long as they were alive. He frantically searched the tentatively smiling faces for the one he most desperately needed to see, cursing the distance and the debris that prevented him from just going up there and finding her for himself.

And then he saw her.

Her face was smudged with soot, and her hair was a tangled mess. One of her knees was scraped and had been bleeding. She looked beautiful.

She was bringing up the rear of the complement of students, keeping them together. He should have known, but he couldn't think through the wave of relief that washed over him. She was alive…she was alive! His knees buckled, and he ended up leaning forward on the pile of rocks that separated him from her, trying to keep his balance.

As if drawn by his intense gaze, Hermione's own eyes lifted and met his across the distance between them. When her lips curved in a smile for him, Ron felt the vise loosen around his heart, allowing it to beat again. Warmth spread back out to his icy limbs, and he could breathe once more. She was alive!

In a frenzy, Ron attacked the rubble that blocked the bottom of the lowest staircase, barely registering it when Ginny, Seamus, Neville and Dean fell to it with him. Then everyone was lending a hand. Professors McGonagall and Snape levitated the larger rocks away carefully. With all of them working together, from both sides, it was cleared away in no time, and the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students began to rush down the stairs to be reunited with their fellows.

Ron couldn't wait. He charged up the stairs, turning sideways and leading with his shoulder so he could push his way past the students coming down, until he reached Hermione at the top. She had run to meet him, and was already reaching as he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and hugged her to him, lifting her off the ground. Hermione's right arm encircled his neck as he spun her around; her left rested lightly on his shoulder. Finally, he let her feet touch the floor again, though he didn't let her go. He just held on, his face buried in her neck as he breathed her name, taking in the smell of her skin, of her hair, and his world righted itself again.

Hermione didn't let go either, and her grip was as tight as his own…her breath as rapid. Now that it was over, reaction was setting in and she trembled against him. "Oh, Ron," she confided, her voice muffled slightly by his shoulder. "I was so frightened."

"I was so afraid," he said at the same time, drawing back enough to look at her face. His voice was shaky. "I thought I'd lost you."

Hermione's hand slipped from around his neck, trailing down his arm until she was holding his hand. She squeezed it, somehow sensing what he needed. "You haven't lost me," she said.

Ron searched her eyes, seeing reassurance and…something more?

Before he could explore the meaning he saw in her gaze, Professor McGonagall drew his attention by clearing her throat.

Ron looked down to see the Professor standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at them. Belatedly, he realized that all of the other students had descended to the main floor, leaving only Hermione and himself standing at the top, embracing. He felt his ears begin to flush red, and he let go of Hermione reflexively. She released him with less haste, almost ginger in her movements. It didn't register on him, however, until McGonagall spoke. "Certainly we are all happy to see Miss Granger and the others alive, Mr. Weasley, but if you wouldn't mind terribly escorting her to the infirmary, I think that broken arm needs looking at."

Surprised, Ron looked back to Hermione. Sure enough, she was holding her left arm oddly, and he suddenly remembered the way she'd only rested it lightly on his shoulder before, when hugging him. How could he not have noticed?

Immediately, he took her good arm by the elbow and started to turn around to head to the Infirmary. "Ron," Hermione said, pulling back a little. "You don't have to go with me, I can get there myself all right."

"Not a chance," Ron replied, tugging her along gently. "I'm not letting you out of my sight again!" He gave her his best charming smile, and was rewarded with a smile of her own before she gave in and let him lead her away.


	8. Hope

The ironic thing was, there'd been no damage to the Gryffindor Common Room or the dormitories whatsoever. Ron wished there had been a way to know that before this night started; he could have been spared hours of worry if they'd just stayed put. He sighed deeply and threw himself down on the sofa before the fire, reveling in the way his muscles were able to relax after the hours and hours of physical effort involved in putting things right. It was almost painful, how good it felt just to lie down.

They still had a long way to go, of course. There was a lot of wreckage and fire damage left to be seen to, but that was for another day. Tonight they had set themselves toward making sure that everyone was all right, assuring that the structure was sound in all of the places people needed to go, and cleaning up the rubble that blocked the stairwells and doorways. And then, of course, they'd had to look after the younger students, who were still frightened and needed explanations.

Just then, the portrait hole swung open ( the Fat Lady, after much persuasion, was once again guarding the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room. Ron had had to listen to her frightened ramblings for twenty minutes before she was reassured enough to consent to resume her position in the portrait ) and Hermione stepped in. Ron quickly sat up.

She'd taken the time to clean herself up a little while they were waiting for Madame Pomfrey to see her, so her face was no longer streaked with dirt, and her hair had been tamed. There had been quite a few minor injuries for the Hogwarts Healer to see to, as well as several more serious cases of broken bones and the like, and since Hermione hadn't wanted to waste the time it would take to have her arm healed properly, she'd asked Madame Pomfrey to just set it in a cast, for the time being. Pomfrey hadn't liked the idea – Muggle medicine was so very inferior to just doing it right – but with seven other students clamoring to see her, it seemed prudent to give Hermione what she wanted and let her get back to helping the Professors clean up the mess of the battle. As long as no further damage was done to the arm, she could fix it up in a jiffy later. The cast (which she'd had to research quickly in a very old, very dusty medical volume in her office) would suffice until then.

Since then, Hermione had been a trooper, working along side him all night despite her broken arm. Honestly, Ron thought that everyone had done a fine job…except for the prefects of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, that is. Ron was miffed at them; if they'd been able to handle their responsibilities the same way Hermione and Draco Malfoy had handled theirs, Hermione wouldn't have had to go off risking her life to save the students, and he wouldn't have had to agonize for hours about whether or not one of his best friends was dead.

Now, his very alive friend came and sat next to him on the sofa, sighing in very much the same way Ron had when he'd finally been able to relax. Her eyes closed for a moment as she leaned back and enjoyed the sensation of rest. Ron watched her, unaware of the naked tenderness on his face. "Are you all right?" he asked. "How's your arm?"

Hermione's eyes opened again, and she looked at him…missing nothing. Something in her own expression must have spoken to him, because he seemed to be having trouble looking away. As the moment between them stretched out, a pretty blush rose on Hermione's cheeks, captivating Ron.

She finally dropped her gaze, clearing her throat delicately. "I'm fine. The numbing charm Madame Pomfrey put on my arm should hold up through tomorrow, when she's got the time to take the cast off and fix it properly."

Ron scooted closer, taking her broken arm gingerly and examining the white, plaster cast. He tried – and failed - not to notice the way her thigh pressed against his as he sat next to her. "This is really an odd thing," he commented. "How did you even think of it?"

Hermione shook her head to disguise the shiver that ran through her when Ron leaned close to her. "I didn't think of it…not originally, anyway. It's standard in the Muggle treatment of broken bones. I had a cast once when I was a little girl, before Hogwarts. I remember my Mum and Dad signing it and drawing little pictures on it for me when we got home from the doctor, and suddenly it didn't seem like such a bad thing to have on my leg."

"People sign them?" Ron asked, going still. "Why?"

Hermione thought about it for a moment. "You know, I'm not sure. It's just what they do. Someone breaks a bone, they get a cast, and then their friends and family sign it. Maybe it's just to cheer them up. You know…a constant reminder of happiness, for however long they have to wear it."

Ron swallowed, then committed himself to the idea that had just come to him. "Can…can I sign it?"

Hermione looked back up at him, surprised. "It's coming off tomorrow," she started.

"That's okay," Ron said quickly. "I just…want to write something." When Hermione nodded, Ron leaned over to the end table, picking up a felt-tip marker he'd seen there. Awkwardly, he turned so that he faced away from Hermione. She sat behind him with her arm extended, the cast resting along his leg. He bent over it and started writing, not giving himself a chance to back out. He started at the very top of the cast, up by her hand:

__

Hermione,

I wish I could just say this to you, but I can't. I've been trying for over three years, and haven't been able to make the words come. Until now, my biggest fear was always that I'd drive you away if I told you the truth, and I couldn't bear the thought of us not being friends anymore. But after tonight, I have a different greatest fear.

"Ron?" Hermione asked, trying to lean forward and look over his shoulder at her arm. "Are you writing a novel? Most people just put 'Get well soon', or something."

"Just give me a minute," Ron stalled, trying to block out the sensation of Hermione pressed against his back. He had to finish this.

He wrote on:

__

I know you. I knew that if anyone could get those students through that hell alive, it would be you. You know every word of every spell we've ever been taught, and you've got the talent to perform each one without a hitch. You've been nagging and mother-henning Harry and me for the past seven years, always keeping us on track…I knew you could take care of those kids and get them through. But Hermione, I was so afraid you wouldn't make it. There was so much stacked against you. Though I believed in you, I was desperately afraid that I'd never see you again. That I really **had** lost you forever.

When we saw you herding the kids to us, all of you safe and sound, I fully realized how afraid I'd been to never see you again. When you came running up and threw your arms around me, when I was holding you…that's when I knew how much I needed you. When you insisted Madame Pomfrey only bind up your arm so you could help us get everything back in order, that's when I knew I loved you…that I've always loved you.

"Ron?"

"Just hold on; I'm almost done."

And when you looked at me just now, your eyes so full of words unsaid, that's when I knew I wanted to be with you always. I knew I needed to tell you.

So now you know. I love you, I have loved you, and will always love you. If you don't feel the same, I…I'll learn to live with it. The most important thing is having you in my life. But from the look on your face just now…I think you do. I hope you do.

I hope you didn't want anyone else to sign your cast, because I've used up every inch of room on it. But I'm going to stop writing now, and give you back your arm. I'm going to let you read this, and then I want you to look up at me. You don't have to say anything…I'll know by your face how you feel. I hope you're smiling. I hope your eyes are shining at me the way they do when you're happy. I hope you love me as much as I love you. I hope.

-Ron

Heart pounding, Ron capped the marker and tossed it back onto the end table. He released Hermione's arm, and shifted so that she could read what he'd written. He didn't quite have the courage to watch her read it, so he stared at the fire instead. There was a long, long moment of silence.

After a little while, Hermione cleared her throat. When Ron didn't move, she said, "You asked me not to say anything, but you're not looking at me."

Ron croaked out a hollow laugh, still staring at the fire. "I'm afraid to look at you," he said.

He felt Hermione's hand on his arm, a gentle, intimate touch. "You don't have to be afraid," she replied.

Scarcely daring to believe what that statement implied, Ron forced himself to look at her. She was staring at him the way she had a few minutes ago, when he asked her if she was all right. Only this time she wasn't looking away. "Are they shining?" she asked him, smiling.

To his relief, to his wonder, to his joy…they were.

FIN


End file.
